H. Bedford-Jones

“ He held up the candle and looked down at the coughing man. As he looked the cough ceased and the body relaxed.
"Poor devils!" said Hanecy. "Benson was behind it somewhere. That damned peddler helped, and probably the priests had a hand in it. And these two ignorant lumps of clay pay the penalty for all that crooked work. But if Benson was behind it—then what about the lump of red amber?" ”

“ He knew that Benson would not dare shoot him in the back, before witnesses.
At the edge of the mountains which girdle the historic plain of Cheng-tu no three sides lay the Lao-tzu-miao, a temple dedicated to Lao-tzu, founder of Taoism. Somewhere in the vicinity of this temple lived a man named Tung Ho, who had in his possession some red amber taken from the tomb of the Emperor Ling Ti of the eastern Han dynasty. Hanecy knew little about it all, except from verbal information. Whether the amber was carved or whether Tung Ho would sell it he did not know. ”

“ Hanecy could well imagine the fear and suspicion filling the eyes of the brethren as they looked out, for Chinese legend is full of mountain and river fairies who come by moon light, and Taoists are superstitious above all others. ”

“ I have two mules, and if you wish to go with me we can get to the place and be back before midnight; that is, if you offer me enough money to take you."
Hanecy bit on his empty pipestem and reflected.
****
HE DID not like the Korean in the least and did not trust him. None the less, there would be no trap set at night, and he scorned the thought of the peddler trying to kill him. The fellow's story rang true enough.
Here was the chance to beat Benson hands down. Benson could not possibly leave the temple before daylight.
"The moon, will rise in an hour," put in the Korean craftily. ”

“ He shouldered his way to the forefront of the crowd and without a word of explanation produced his automatic pistol and with it smashed the thin glass of the case. The tortured birds fluttered forth and took wing.
****
WITH a startled oath, the Korean leaped up, a knife flashing into his hand. Hanecy took him by the neck and dragged him forward across the booth.
"Listen, span of a turtle!" The American's voice bit like steel. A murmur of amazement went up from the crowd as they heard the foreign devil speaking their dialect. "If you make the wrong move with that knife, you die! Drop it! ”

“ The longest-living author of this work died in 1949, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 74 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works. ”